


Medicate

by Crescentmoonmadness



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, Self-Harm, and horrible fathers, and mental illness, and oppressive mothers, deals with medicating, gabbie hanna freeform, its kinda sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-24 22:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17712809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescentmoonmadness/pseuds/Crescentmoonmadness
Summary: Betty Cooper is strong, stronger than most. She is head-strong, free-willed, and full of life. But when the love of her life leaves her, without so much as an explanation, and her whole world comes crashing down around her, how will she put the pieces back together?Jughead Jones' world revolves around her, but when he has to give her up to keep her safe, and then fall apart in the aftermath, how will he hold himself together.*Warning* Heavy Angst.





	1. I'm Unwell, Thanks for Asking

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by the song Medicate by Gabbie Hanna. I am so sorry that this is so angsty. This is just where the idea led me. I apologize profusely, I honestly don't know why my brain is always led is such dark and dramatic directions. I hope you enjoy this and it hurts in a good way? I don't even know how to explain that. Like, when the angst is so good it hurts, but you like it? I don't know, nevermind my rambling. I hope you like this.

**The End**

_ “Betty, this isn't working,” the world was spinning, faster, faster.  _

_ “What do you mean?” Her stomach pulled into knots, vomit sitting at the base of her throat.  _

_ “I can't do this anymore, I want out,” the spinning stopped, screeching to a halt. He didn't want her.  _

_ “Please don't do this, Jug. I…. I need you.” _

_ “That's exactly the point! I can't be responsible for you, Betty!” She shrunk away from the angry words, each one striking her like a blow landing on her skin. She didn't hear him whisper a quiet apology, didn't hear him leave her room. She simply sunk to the floor pressed her palms into her eyes, trying to catch the tears before they fell.  _

**14 days**

Betty stared at the bottle of pills, the doctor's diagnosis ringing in her ears. Acute depression. Over and over, the words chasing each other around. She was smart enough to know that she should feel something, but she just  _ couldn't.  _ He was gone, what was the point? 

She hadn't wanted to take the pills, or to even fill out the prescription, had even gone as far as trying to throw it out, but the pills still ended up on her desk that morning, a note sitting beside them. 

_ I'll be counting them tonight, Elizabeth.  _

She had tried lots of different things to spark her emotions, but nothing took. 

**1 day**

_ They would get back together, they always did. No matter how bad things got, they always found their way back to each other. At least, that's what she told herself. She would give him a couple days, a week tops.  _

_ He would come back to her.  _

_ God, he  _ **_had_ ** _ to.  _

**14 days**

She took out the pill, thinking oh her mother's note. Opening the drawer in the vanity, she slipped the little white pill underneath the papers there. 

_ There. Problem solved.  _

The doctor has assured that the pills would help her feel normal again, but she knew what that meant. She didn't want to numb the pain, she wanted to  _ feel  _ it, to relish in it. 

She knew that the pills would change her, dull her feelings until she was just a husk. She couldn't risk it. Couldn't risk the pills taking away the only she had left of him, the pain he had caused. 

She would hold onto it for as long as possible. 

**5 days**

_ “You need to talk to her, Jug. She's losing it.” The ginger jogged to keep up with him. He was doing his best to get away from the school as fast as possible, the haunted look in Betty's face making him feel ill.  _

_ “I can't talk to her, Archie. Besides, I've got nothing to say.” What would he say? That he missed her? That he felt empty without her? _

_ That he hadn't smiled in five days?  _

_ That seeing her was like a punch to gut.  _

_ He saw her, all too well. He saw the purple bruises under eyes. She wasn't sleeping. The sharpness of her jawline. She wasn't eating. The vacant look in her eyes. He hated himself, but he couldn't talk to her. If he talked to her he would surely tell her, and she couldn't know. She could never know. _

**18 days.**

Five white pills now sat in the drawer. Betty contemplated them for a moment. So far her mom hadn't caught on. The doctor had said it would take a couple weeks for them to fully kick in, so Betty still had time. Time to feel, time to remember clearly how beautiful he was, how he used to kiss her. 

How his hands felt on her skin. 

Most nights she would like awake and stare at the roof, her mind running in circles. 

_ What had she done wrong?  _

_ Could she have fixed it?  _

_ Had he ever even loved her?  _

Round and round they ran, trying desperately to catch purchase. 

**7 days**

_ “I did what you asked. I broke up with her.” He watched the man in front of him, trying to find similarities between him and the woman he loved. There were a few, like strands that barely tied to each other. Blonde hair, green eyes, the patent Cooper eyebrows.  _

_ “Good, does she know why you did?” Jughead scowled, shaking his head.  _

_ He had told her it was because she was a burden, knowing that if he told her the real reason she never would have accepted it. She would have thrown herself into the line of fire and he couldn't have that.  _

_ “What's this really about, Hal? Surely you have a better reason than thinking I'm not good enough for her.” His blood ran cold at the smile on the man's face, it was the smile of a murderer, a manipulator, of evil.  _

_ “All in good time, Jughead. In the meantime, remember our deal.” Hal waved a hand, effectively dismissing Jughead. Jughead remembered their deal. Crystal clear. The words had haunted him, ringing in his ears.  _

**_Break up with her. Either you do that, or I will take her away from you. Forever._ **

**18 days**

_ He spends all his spare time thinking about her. Her hands, her lips, her warmth. A warmth that is now absent from his life. Everything has been dulled down to greys, where bright colours used to paint his day.  _

_ He worries about her. He hopes she is okay. That she can move on. He knows all too well about the crescent moons that sit in her hands and hopes to God that he hasn’t been that cause for more of them to appear. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if that happened.  _

_ The only way that he was making it through this was reminding himself that she was strong, and a much worse fate awaited them both if he broke his deal.  _

**23 days**

Betty walked into her room to find Alice standing beside her vanity. Her heart stopped cold, dread seeping into her. 

“What the hell is this, Elizabeth?” Betty heard the barely-veiled anger in her mother's voice, saw the slight shake in her hand. Finally, she saw the item in question that was causing her mother’s anger. Her prescription bottle in one hand and a fist clenched around what Betty could only assume was her hidden pills. Her desk drawer sits open, the contents clearly having been rummaged through. 

“Mom, what are you doing in here?” Her voice edges on hysterics, rising with each word. “ARe you going through my stuff?”

“You’re damn right I am!” Her mother’s words pierce the quiet air in their home. “And for good reason. From now on you will take your pills in front of me.” 

Betty lets her mother and the accompanying fury blow by her out of the room, leaving the stale taste of defeat behind. There was no way around it now. Her mother would force her to take the pills, and her broken heart would slip away, along with all her pain. 

**28 days**

_ Every day is bleak without her. He watches as she eats lunch with Veronica. He scoffed at their new lunchtime arrangements. It was like their friends were the children of divorce. Veronica sat with Betty and Archie sat with him. Betty had made it pretty clear that she didn’t want to sit anywhere near him.  _

_ But as he watched her eat he couldn’t help but feel that something was different about her. She stares absently at her food, as if not really seeing it. Veronica is babbling on about something, but instead of participating in the one-sided conversation, Betty only nods here and there. Veronica looks up in their direction and scowls at him, catching him observing them. Her withering glare is enough to make him drag his attention back to his own lunch, his appetite suddenly missing.  _

_ He throws one more look in their direction as he picks up his lunch tray. She looks thin, and that realization alone is enough to destroy him a little more.  _

**30 days**

Everyday she feels

                     less 

                                              and

                                                                             less.

Her clothes fit differently. She smiles with no warmth, realizing that that last five pounds her mother was always chastising her about has finally come off. Not that it mattered. It had only been seven days since her mother began the North Korea-esque check-ins every morning. 

Each morning she would go downstairs and Alice would be waiting for her, the small white pill in one hand, a glass of water in the other. 

Betty had tried to hide the pill under her tongue the first day, but Alice was too smart to be deceived again. She would watch Betty drink her water and then proceed to make Betty stick her tongue out, lift it up, even going so far to take a small flashlight and shine it in Betty’s mouth. 

Betty had accepted her fate. She was taking the pills. 

For a moment she had entertained the thought of puking the pills up when she got to school. She tried it that first day. As soon as she got to school she went to the bathroom in the back of the school that no one used and bent over the sink, emptying the contents of her stomach into the white porcelain. Her eyes watered from the bile as she looked at what was before her and was disheartening to see no pill. Of course, they dissolved too quickly. 

It had only been seven days of the pills, but she could already feel the changes. Nothing seemed to matter as much as much anymore. She struggled to pay attention to Veronica’s most current drama, not seeing the importance in it. Listening to Archie talk about his music was easier, she no longer felt the tug in her heart that she used to when listening to the redhead talk about his dreams of being a famous musician. 

The deep cut of her breakup with Jughead wasn’t quite so deep anymore, and she found herself desperately trying to hold onto the feeling of loss that had been so fresh a week ago. It was like trying to keep water cupped in your hands. You could try your hardest to hold it, but the more you struggle, the more it slips away. 

**42 days**

_ He can’t watch her fade away anymore. A week and a half ago she was simply looking thin. Now she was gaunt, the skin on her face stretched thinly over her bones. Her clothes hung loosely on her frame, looking like they were trying to swallow her whole. He knew it was because of him and it was killing him. He was afraid to talk to her though. Afraid that if he spoke to her he would spill the contents of his heart.  _

_ He couldn’t lie to her. Not again. He had barely gotten through their breakup, and he had rehearsed it for hours. She walked down the halls in a daze. He could see even from a distance the glaze that had settled over her eyes, once sharp eyes were now glassy and dulled.  _

_ She wasn’t paying attention in class, and he had to wonder how her grades were fairing. They had to be suffering, as she hadn’t taken a note in class for weeks. He would watch her in their shared English class, gazing out the window. Their teacher had tried to address her lack of enthusiasm but had given up quickly. It wasn’t just a normal teenage mood swing. She had lost her passion, her spark of life.  _

_ It was tearing him apart. Something was wrong, more than just a breakup. He could feel it.  _

**43 days**

Wake up. Shower. Get dressed. Pills. Hide uneaten breakfast. School. Pick at lunch. Avoid  _ him.  _ Home. Eat enough supper to avoid suspicion. Homework. Sleep. Repeat. 

Day in. 

Day out. 

Everything the same. 

Routine was her saviour. 

Routine meant that she could let go. She didn’t have to think. Because every time she thought it was of black hair over blue eyes, crown beanies, and improperly worn suspenders. And her heart would ache to feel  _ anything.  _ Anything at all. She would take the gut-wrenching pain at this point if she could only feel something again. 

**44 days**

_ He didn’t know what he was thinking as he chased her out of the classroom. The bell had rung signaling the end of the day and she was heading for the doors. He tried to keep her ponytail in sight, watching over top the mass of bodies as she walked out the front doors.  _

_ He pushed his way through the students, bursting out into the afternoon sunshine, looking around wildly for her.  _

_ His eyes found her immediately. She was already a half block away and before he could reconsider his actions he took after her.  _

_ “Betty,” he shouted, raising his voice louder when she didn’t look back. “Betts, wait!” She began to walk faster, he noticed. She heard him, she was trying to ignore him, but he couldn’t ignore what was happening to her anymore. He wouldn’t. _

_ He got close enough to touch and gently grabbed her wrist, his stomach turning when he felt how small it had gotten.  _

_ “Betts, I just want to talk.” He watched as she sighed, so heavily that it seemed to shudder her whole body, and dropped her wrist.  _

_ “What do you want, Jughead?” His heart clenched at her tone. There wasn’t anything behind it. Only indifference. It shattered him to pieces, but he plowed on. This wasn’t about him. It was about her.  _

_ “Are you okay?” He could have kicked himself. Of course she wasn’t okay. “I mean...I don’t… I know something’s wrong,” he finished lamely. He felt her eyes turn up to him, but didn’t find any of the normal fire in them. They were dulled and glassy.  _

_ “You mean, the one person who I trusted to stand by me leaving me? That kind of wrong?” Her words were meant to hurt him, that much he knew. But they were missing anger, or even indignation. Once again the words she spoke were said flatly as if she couldn’t muster the energy to even care about what she was saying.  _

_ “You look like you’re fading away, Betts,” his words come out pleading. “Is your mom…” _

_ “It’s not your job to care anymore.” These words come out with a little more bite, some of the fire that once used to blaze through her sparking to life again. “You gave up that right when you walked away.” Jughead tried to catch her eye, but her head was firmly turned toward the ground.  _

_ “I didn’t have a choice, Betts.” He reached for her, his hand landing on her arm. His heart caught when she pulled away quickly, as if she had been burned.  _

_ “I can’t do this with you, Jug. Just...leave me alone.” Jughead watched helplessly as she walked away, her shoulders hunched. He had never felt so useless, so helpless, in his entire life, and what was worse, he had no idea how to fix it.  _

**44 days**

She came through the door and slammed it shut behind her. She felt on the verge of tears, but couldn’t make the droplets fall. Every emotion running through her felt stunted, like it was unable to reach the surface. 

Her mom was gone for the day, needing to go to Greendale to interview someone for an upcoming article. Betty walked up the stairs and came into her room. Her backpack was dropped to the floor and she looked around her room. There was a corkboard that held pictures of her friends. One of her and Veronica in their Vixens uniforms. One of her and Archie at the talent show. Her and Kevin at Pop’s. 

She hated every single picture. These people were her friends. Why hadn’t they noticed that something was wrong? Why was Jughead the first to notice? 

It wasn’t that she wanted people to notice. If they noticed then they would ask questions and she couldn’t handle that. No, she didn’t want anyone to know that something was wrong, but  _ why  _ did the one person who  _ did  _ notice have to be Jughead? 

She knew the answer. 

He saw her, for everything good and bad that she was, he saw all of it and accepted it. There was no one in her life that saw her as clearly as he did. But that wasn’t his job anymore. 

She tried to feel angry. Angry that he had chased her down. That he had mentioned her lessening weight. That he felt he had the right to say he had  _ no choice _ in their breakup. If there was anyone who hadn’t been given a choice, it had been her. 

She knew in her heart that she was furious, but the emotion got caught in her throat, unable to come to the surface. She felt like a zombie, walking around aimlessly. She just wanted to  _ feel _ . 

And with that desperate desire in mind, her feet led her to her desk, her hands taking her pencil sharpener and turning the small screw that kept the blade in place. It was like her body was functioning on auto-pilot, her mind having no control over what the rest of her was doing.

She knew it was wrong, in the back of her mind, but the larger part of her was screaming over that small voice. She watched in muted horror and fascination as the blade touched the skin on her wrist. 

She simply rested it there, letting the cool metal sit against her skin. Then she thought of the emptiness that sat in her chest and deftly drug the blade across. The bite was harsh and stung immediately. She gasped and dropped the blade, the clatter ringing out loudly as it fell to the desk. 

Her other hand came up to clutch at the cut, causing a fresh wave of pain to rock through her. It took her breath away, and yet. It was the most she had felt in weeks. She removed her hand and watched as the blood seeped from the wound. The slow trickle of blood should have turned her stomach, but instead, it fascinated her. The sting was mostly gone now, a remanent of feeling. She wanted more. She wanted to feel more than the numbness that had taken over every part of her. And with that thought in mind, she quickly grabbed the blade again, pulling it over her skin thrice more, four neat lines sitting there. 

The sting was unimaginable, it hurt so much more than the first one had, and this sting did not fade as quickly. She realized only after the fact that she had pressed too hard, cut too deep, regret flowing through her as quickly as blood was flowing out of her. 

She dropped the blade into the garbage can beside her desk and walked quickly to the bathroom, turning the tap on and thrusting her wrist beneath the water. 

The sting turned into a gut-twisting wrench of pain, taking her breath away completely. She ran the water until the bleeding slowed, then quickly grabbed a large bandage from the medicine cabinet. 

She looked in the mirror and hated what she saw. Someone weak, someone broken. She turned her eyes away and backed up until her back hit the wall, letting herself slide down to the floor. She brought her arms up to circle around her legs, her head falling down to rest on her knees, and finally, she wept. 


	2. Numb the Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of this little two-shot. This was so cathartic to write and I hope you enjoy the angsty little world I created.

**51 days**

Another week passes and seven more small lines appear on her arm. She trades in her form-fitting tops for oversized sweaters, the sleeves hanging down past her hands to ensure that no one sees the angry red marks running up and down, crisscrossing over one another. 

Her mother makes a comment every morning on her new wardrobe, but she would happily endure the snide remarks than chance her mother finding out. The worst part is that she is certain her mother wouldn’t care as much about her mental health as she would about what the neighbours would think. Betty has nightmares about her mother finding the cuts, and instead of helping Betty, Alice would scream at her that she was weak. It’s from those nightmares that she wakes in a cold sweat, stifling the screams that want to leave her chest. 

The mist of indifference has settled in completely now. She has added to her routine. 

Wake up. Shower. Get a new bandage. Get dressed. Make sure arms are covered. Pills. Hide uneaten breakfast. School. Pick at lunch. Avoid everyone _.  _ Home. Eat enough supper to avoid suspicion. Homework. Cut. Cry. Sleep. Repeat. 

It works. She feels nothing except the one thing she wants to feel, pain. 

She sees him, of course. They share classes so completely avoiding him is impossible, but she tries to minimize their interactions.

She knows him, knows how smart he is. Before, she had been trying to avoid him to avoid the ache in her heart. That isn’t the case anymore. She knows that if she gets to close, he will know what she is doing to herself. She suspects that she wouldn’t have to say a thing, he would just  _ know.  _

**55 days**

_ He sits in class, looking at the back of her head. Her blonde hair looks ashen where it had once been shiny and full of life, like so many other parts of her. He is barely listening to their teacher, only knowing that he is assigning partners for their upcoming Shakespeare project. He hears her name being called, wishing that it would be his name that would be called after. _

_ Then he hears it. “Betty Cooper and… Jughead Jones.” _

_ Jughead’s head snaps up to look at their teacher, then he quickly looks to Betty. He tries to quell the feeling of hope in his chest. Maybe he’ll actually be able to talk to her, to find out what was going on with her. He can’t see her face, but from her uncomfortable shifting in her seat, he can guess that she is less than happy about the arrangement.  _

_ He does his utmost to keep the smile off his face for the rest of class, silently thanking their teacher for this opportunity. The bell rings and his classmates rise and pack their things, rushing off to their next classes.  _

_ He packs slowly, seeing Betty march up to the desk at the front of the room. He tries to pretend like he isn’t listening and only catches snippets of sentences.  _

_ “...can’t be paired with him...ex-boyfriend...no, sir... yes, sir...I’ll take anyone else...please.” _

_ Jughead’s heart twists in his chest. He knew he had no right to be hurt by her attempts to get a new partner. He had broken her heart, but knowing that she would so desperately beg to not be around him? It shredded him to pieces. Then, their instructor’s answer, clear and harsh.  _

_ “I’m sorry Elizabeth, but my pairing is final. You and Mr. Jones will have to find some way to make it work.” _

_ He leaves the classroom, hearing her heave a sigh and stomp past him. He knows he should give her space, but there is a part of him that misses talking to her so much, he would even endure her anger if only to hear her voice.  _

_ “Hey, Betty,” she doesn’t slow down, he speeds up, “Betts!” At the nickname, she wheels around, hurt flaming in her eyes.  _

_ “Don’t call me that!” Her voice is sharp, garnering the attention of those around them. He stops where he stands, heart thumping away in his chest.  _

_ “I just wanted to talk about the project,” she scoffs at him, shaking her head.  _

_ “I am  _ **_not_ ** _ working on that project with you,” at that she turns on her heel and stalks away from him. He does the only thing he can think of to do.  _

_ “Maybe I should let Mr. Brown know about your unwillingness to work together?” He hates himself the moment the words leave his lips, but cautiously watches her as she stops and turns back towards him, stalking closer.  _

_ “Fine,” she growls out, “meet me at the library tomorrow. After school. Don’t be late.” As soon as she’s done speaking she leaves him standing there. Her anger is a surprise, considering that he has seen nothing but cold indifference from her since the breakup. It’s a welcome change. _

**56 days**

She waits in the library at a back table, her assignment materials spread out in front of her. She had worn an extra baggy sweater to school, trying to minimize the chances of Jughead seeing her bandage. She is back to feeling nothing, her small outburst in the hall yesterday a blip on the map. She had to admit, it had been almost refreshing to feel something, but her brief descent into emotions had been quickly pressed back down with her morning pill. 

Betty takes out the play they are studying,  _ Taming of the Shrew,  _ and begins taking notes. She’s not happy about working with Jughead, hating that she will have to be in close proximity to him, but she also knows that doing a bag job on the assignment isn’t an option. 

She startles when he plops into the chair opposite her. He looks tired, the purple bruises under his eyes seeming more prominent than usual. She looks at the time on her cell phone, hoping that it will say he’s late and give her an excuse to leave, but he is annoyingly punctual. 

“Ok, so I was thinking we could do a movie comparison,” she starts, not wasting any time, “It seems fairly straight forward and it one of the more labour intensive projects so I don’t think we will have a lot of other classmates doing the same thing.” She looks up at him, looking for confirmation, but only sees mild adoration. It was a look she had seen on his face countless times, however, where it had once made her feel happy it now only served to make her uncomfortable. He shouldn’t be allowed to look at her like that, not after what he did. 

“Jughead?” He snaps back to the present, giving his head a small shake, all of which Betty observes carefully. 

“Sure, Betty. The movie sounds great.” She cocks her head, slanting her eyes at him. 

“What do you mean it  _ sounds  _ great? You haven’t seen it?” He shrugs and looks out the window to his right.

“No, not really my type of movie.” She scoffs in disbelief. 

“Of course not, it’s not in black and white and was produced in this century. It’s a classic! How have you not seen it?” This time it’s Jughead’s turn to scoff. 

“I would not consider  _ 10 Things I Hate About You  _ a classic, Betts,” she cringes at the nickname, but he seems to notice his misstep before she can correct him. “Sorry, habit,” he mutters quietly. 

She takes a deep breath, hating how easily she had slipped back into their old routine. He shouldn’t be allowed to do that, to talk to her with such ease, to make her feel safe. 

“You need to watch the movie before we can get started on the project,” she says softly. He nods his agreement. 

“How about tomorrow night?” he asks, “We could go to my place or…”

“Let’s do it at mine,” she interrupts quickly, continuing on, “my mom will be out of the house tomorrow and we can watch it on the big screen downstairs. That way I don’t have to explain why I’ll need to leave the house.” 

He looks at her for a moment before speaking, “Does Alice have you on lockdown?” She bristles at his tone, one of concern and caring. He wasn’t allowed to  _ do  _ that anymore. Didn’t he  _ get  _ that?

“No,” she said abruptly, “I just don’t feel like explaining that I have to watch a movie with my ex-boyfriend to her.” She watches at the words  _ ex-boyfriend  _ hit him and it is as if they are striking blows, each one landing on his flesh with a sting. She wants to stay and watch the words sink in completely, watch as he flounders in his pain, but she can’t. She can’t stand to be around him for one more minute. She stands quickly, packing up her things without care, shoving papers and scribblers alike into her backpack. 

“Be at my house at six tomorrow,” she commands, before rushing out of the library without a glance back.

 

She gets home that night and follows her routine, but instead of adding one mark to her wrist, she adds one for each time Jughead had made her feel some semblance of happiness that afternoon, three little marks coming to weep blood down her arm. She wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow, she just wanted to get it over and down with. 

**57 days**

_ He pulls up to the Cooper residence at exactly six p.m. It looks the exact same as it did that last time he was here, only it feels different, as if he and his bike are an unwelcome intrusion.  _

_ He takes his helmet off and walks up the front steps, knocking gingerly on the door, another thing that has changed. He never used to knock, instead, he would use the old ladder from the garage to climb up into Betty’s room. But things are different now, everything is different.  _

_ He remembers Mr. Cooper’s words to him,  _ **_“Break up with her. I will take her away from you, forever.”_ **

_ Jughead feels foolish even being here. He shouldn’t be. He’s putting her in danger, taking a big risk. And for what? To watch a movie. He could have done that at the trailer, by himself. He could have just borrowed the DVD from Betty. But the temptation was too much.  _

_ The opportunity to sit beside her on the couch, the chance of their things touching, of her maybe falling asleep on him. It was too much to turn down. He ached to be close to her again, every molecule in his body wanted to be with her.  _

_ He tries to shove his fears of the consequences of his actions tonight deep down inside. He wants to enjoy his time with her. He just hopes that for tonight, the Black Hood isn’t watching. _

 

_ The movie is half over when it happens. They were sitting close, closer than they had at the beginning anyways. She had wanted to share popcorn, which had required her to sit in the seat next to him instead of the one on the opposite side of the couch.  _

_ The popcorn was finished, but she had remained where she was, every nerve ending in his body was screaming to reach out and hold her like he used to, but he wasn’t allowed to do that anymore.  _

_ As Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles drifted across the screen, scene after scene unfolding, her head had begun to bob. He wasn’t entirely surprised. There was something about her that was so innately run-down and exhausted. What did surprise him was feeling her weight gently and slowly come to rest on his shoulder, her head falling onto him lightly. _

_ He should wake her up, this wasn’t right, a small voice in his head whispered. Wasn’t for him to enjoy anymore, but the selfish part of him ignored that voice and gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer into him.  _

_ The movie played on and at one point Betty shifted, bring her hand up to rest on his chest. He hummed in contentment, feeling more at peace now than he had in the last two months. Then, her sleeve fell down. And he saw it.  _

_ Angry red marks slashing through her skin, raised and foreign on the paleness that he was accustomed to. His heart bottomed out, flatlining at the realization of what those marks were. Without thinking he grabbed her wrist, bringing it closer to him to see more clearly. She awoke with the sudden movement and wrenched her arm out of his grasp. _

_ His world was shattering around him as she spoke, “What are you doing?” Her voice was shrill, panicked. _

_ “Betts…” his voice was hoarse, clouded with tears that he wouldn’t let fall, “what are you doing to yourself?” He watched her face, his stomach clenching as he saw her close herself off from his. It was as blatant as a door being slammed in his face. One moment she was there, the next, the indifferent blonde doppelganger was back.  _

_ “I think you should go,” she whispered, clutching her arm to her chest.  _

_ “No,” he had no idea where the strength in his voice came from, “I’m not going anywhere.” _

**57 days**

She was trapped. He wasn’t going to leave, she could see it in his eyes. 

“When did that start?” His voice shuddered, but it held the same power that it always did. Still, she didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want him to see her weakness. She pulled her sleeves down tighter, curling the fabric into her palms.

“I’m not talking about this with you” she wished her voice was firm, but she knew it wavered with every word. She knew she was close to falling apart, but she willed herself to stay strong. She couldn’t break in front of him. It would destroy her to have him pick up the pieces and leave her again. 

Or worse yet, if he just walked away without trying. 

“You have to talk to someone Betts, if not me then…” Rage filled her, formidable and breathtaking. 

“Then who, Jug?” Her voice boomed loudly in the dead air. “Who else do I have who knows me like this? Who knows how I struggle? You were it,” she chokes on her words, tears filling her throat, “and then you weren’t.” Tears began to fall down her cheeks now, but the anger remained. 

“I’ve learned how to live without you, Jug. You don’t get to decide how I go about it.” Whatever anger she felt inside herself, she saw it tenfolded in his eyes as she spoke those words. Before she could process him moving, he was up the stairs, leaving her behind in the basement. She scrambled up after him, seeing his feet disappear up the stairs to the second floor. She knew where he was going. 

She came to a stop outside the door to her room, watching as he desperately tore through her drawers. 

Fear clutched her chest tightly, squeezing the breath right out of her. 

“Jug. Jug! Stop, you can’t…” Her words were cut off abruptly.

“I can’t what, Betty? Try to protect you, from me, your dad,  _ yourself _ ? All I want is for you to be safe and I can’t  _ do  _ that if you’re hurting yourself. So, tell me where it is and I’ll go.”

“Where is _ what! _ ” Her words hung in the air.

“Whatever you are using to hurt yourself. Hand it over. Or I’ll keep tearing your room apart until I find it.” She waits for a moment, and it is apparently a moment too long for him, he starts ripping apart her desk drawer. She is about to stop him when his hands still, her fingers grasping and pulling out one small pill. 

“What is this?” She hates this, she decides. Hates that he has the audacity to pretend to care about her, that he thinks he has to right to try and protect her. She sighs. She’s so tired.

“Anti-depressants.” He says nothing so she continues, “My mom made me go on them after...the breakup,” she finishes lamely. 

“God, leave it to Alice,” he drags a hand over his face, looking older than she’s ever seen him look. It’s quiet for a moment, then something wiggles free from the back of her mind.

“What did you mean, protect me from my dad?” Jughead stills, his hand leaving his face. A look that Betty could only describe as fear crosses his visage. “Jug, what did my dad do?”

A sigh, a heavy silence. Betty felt fear and anxiety swirl in her stomach as she waited for him to answer. 

“Give me whatever it is you are using to cut. I need that before we talk anymore.” Betty nodded, moving slowly to the bathroom and grabbing the small sharpener blade from its place in her drawer. She walked back to him slowly, standing close enough now to smell him. He smelled of mint and typewriter ink, like he always did. She placed the blade into his outstretched palm, a part of her feeling panicky at relinquishing it to him. 

His fingers closed over it gently and he tucked it into his pocket. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time in what seemed like ages. The crystal blue depths shone brightly at her. 

“What did my dad do?” She asks him again, quietly. Her father, the Black Hood. She should have known she could never be free of him.

“He told me if I didn’t break up with you, he would hurt you. He said he would take you away from me forever.” Betty’s heart broke as Jughead’s voice cracked, tears choking out his words. Instant understanding flooded her. He hadn’t wanted to leave her. Her father hadn’t given him a choice. 

Without thinking she took a step closer and wrapped her arms around his middle, pulling him into her. 

“No, Betts. I shouldn’t be here. What if your dad finds out, I can’t…” he looked down into her eyes and she saw the unshed tears glistening there, “I can’t lose you. Even if I can’t have you for myself, I can’t lose you.” 

Her heart was doing acrobatics at this point, somersaulting and flipping around in her chest. She shook her head, lowering her eyes for a moment before looking back up at him. 

“Jughead Jones, for being the smartest guy I know, you are extremely dense.” His eyes widened in shock at her words, and she allowed herself the briefest of smiles. 

“You will never lose me. Not because of my dad, or the Serpents, or anything. I will always be yours.” She lets the word wash over him, settle him. His arms come up to wrap around her shoulders, crushing her into his chest, like he can’t get close enough. 

Time passes, how much of it, she can’t be sure. It could be minutes or hours. It isn’t until his voice breaks the silence that she realizes time has passed at all. 

“So what do we do now?” His words are softly spoken, but loaded with implication. She takes a deep breath, knowing in her heart what they have to do. 

“I’m not sure how to fix all this, but I do know that we are stronger together. We always have been, Jug.”

“Ok.” That one small word fills the room. It isn’t going to fix everything. She knows that. The anti-depressants need to be dealt with. So does her cutting. They are both something that she knows she can’t just quit overnight. They’ll need to figure out a way around her father, to guarantee that he doesn’t lash out. But right now, in this moment, all she wants is what she has. His arms wrapped around her. 

Betty isn’t stupid, she knows that no relationship will completely quell her demons. But that isn’t what she wants Jughead for. She doesn’t want a white knight to swoop in and slay her dragons. She wants a partner to fight side by side with her, back to back, facing all the evil that she knows is out there. 

That partner is Jughead, it always has been, it always will be.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment or kudos if you liked it! And if you wanna chat more, my tumblr is crescentmoonmadness! I love talking with you guys!


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